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Other people are just like you. Why did you think they’d be any different?
The conventional wisdom says that you should write like you speak.
And it’s true – you should. As long as you don’t ramble, repeat yourself (at least not too much) or get to0 informal, slangy or inappropriate.
The idea is simple.
If you write like you speak, then you connect with your readers. Your language is conversational, direct and free from those tortured turns of phrase and formal constructions associated with written English.
So even in print, you appear relaxed, friendly and approachable.
And because people do business with people they like, they’ll do business with you. Your corporate personality will chime with your personal personality (still with me?).
And that’s a good thing.
But you can take it even further.
Read and destroy
“I’m such an impatient reader,” said a marketing chum of mine recently. “And there’s so much to read. The trouble is, I don’t know how to skim.”
I do.
It’s one of the innumerable skills I picked up – well skimmed, really – when I was writing about speed reading for a client some years back. One of the most effective tips I took away was almost too simple to be true – yet it was.
Read the first sentence of each paragraph.
Easy, isn’t it?
The trouble is, you know this (well you do now) but your customers don’t. So if you present them with acres of dense, unbroken text, you’ll scare them off. They’ll make a snap decision – to go elsewhere.
Because they, just like you, are impatient readers. They’ve got emails, tweets, blog posts, PDFs, hard-copy documents, RSS feeds and a whole lot else besides to read.
In short, they’re just like you.
They read like you.They skim like you. They delete like you (often before reading – it feels so good, doesn’t it?).
Don’t be yourself (be them)
So what’s the answer?
It’s simple really. Whenever you write, ask yourself ‘If somebody else wrote this, would I read it? Is it too long? Would I have the patience to stick with it right to the end?’
Chances are, you’d say no. So why do you think your readers are any different?
They’re not. So here’s what you should do:
- Use frequent headings to break up your copy.
- Keep your paragraphs short.
- Use bold and italic (and if you’re really daring, both at the same time) to emphasise points.
- Visually separate important sections (in a box, a table or other graphical device).
- Summarise your offering for the impatient (most of us) with a link or branch-off mechanism for the detail-hungry (an important minority).
- Get to the point fast – preferably in the first couple of paragraphs.
- Make it easy to skim: lead the eye through your copy.
- Vary the length of your sentences, so your writing doesn’t become monotonous.
- Include frequent calls to action, so people know what to do next.
- Repeat yourself. Repetition is comforting, affirming and convincing.
- Tell a story, so your writing is structured and follows a logical patten.
- End on a high point (call to action, special offer, a promise, a claim, a strong & confident statement) so your copy doesn’t fizzle out.
Be brutal with yourself. Just because you wrote it doesn’t mean they’ll read it.
Think like a reader. Plan like a reader. Then, write like a reader.
Because there’s no other way.
Clarity and brevity. Enough said.
Yes, yes, I know that the best blogs, the ones written by people with Very Big Megaphones standing on Very Big Soapboxes have ‘Top 10 ways to write lists of Top 10 lists’ and so on.
But if there’s a trend to be bucked, or a convention to be broken, then in the immortal words of Wham! I’m your man.
So not five, or four, or three, but two.
Two simple ways that’ll make a significant difference to the quality of your written output.
We speak geek
Just the other day, I was talking to a client about technology.
Now this is an area I’m comfortable in, having spent more years than I care to remember with my shoulder to the IT wheel.
So we chatted about SaaS and XML, about CSS and VPNs, RFID and NFC.
And I suddenly realised that if the proverbial Martian were beamed into our virtual midst, he’d stare open-mouthed at us, wondering if his in-built English translator was working correctly.
And it’s not just Martians.
Because for most people, techspeak is baffling. In fact, specialised jargon of any sort is baffling.
When you’re talking in a closed environment to somebody who speaks your esoteric language, you tend to forget how specialised it is. And it doesn’t much matter, as you’re on the same wavelength.
It’s when you go outside that environment that the problems start.
I remember years ago being in a high-level meeting around a gorgeous walnut table on the 25th floor of a bank.
My colleague – a systems engineer – said to the assembled great and the good, “Let’s take that topic offline. I don’t think we have the bandwidth at the moment.”
This was in the days before techspeak started to leak into our everyday conversation, so he was met with a look of blank incomprehension.
I came to the rescue.
“Let’s talk about it outside this meeting,” I said in a near-simultaneous translation, “because we don’t really have the time at the moment.”
They all nodded sagely.
It’s only when you’re outside your comfort zone (itself insider jargon that’s jumped the barrier) that we realise how impenetrable all this stuff is.
The day after my IT conversation, I got a call from somebody asking if I’d be interested in writing about derivatives.
“Tell me a bit more about the project,” I said, just to sound a little less at sea than I felt. And to play for time.
So he told me.
All of the words made sense – sort of. That is, I could identify them as English, and had heard them all before, though not necessarily in the order or context he used them in. The acronyms didn’t help things either, and they came thick and fast.
So I did the only thing I could – decline the job, while helpfully suggesting he’d save time, money, effort and frustration by finding a financial copywriter.
In his case, jargon is excusable: he’s in a specialist market, with a specialist audience.
But most of us aren’t. If you’re a specialist talking to a generalist, uninitiated audience – your clients, for example – you need to simplify, explain and demystify.
Way number 1: lose the jargon. PDQ.
Short and tweet
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote an executive summary for a long document I was working on.
And then a strange thought occurred to me: if the document is aimed at busy executives (which it was) and they read the executive summary (which they will, because they’re busy) then why bother with the rest of the document?
A sobering thought – and a valuable lesson.
Anything you can write in two pages can be cut down to one. And from one to a half. And from a paragraph to a sentence.
It’s just that most of the time, we don’t have to cut. Unless we’re forced to – by Twitter, for example. The 140-character limit really focuses the mind. You can’t waffle because it won’t let you .
So you don’t. Instead, you become a paragon of brevity, concision and focus.
The limit is a legacy. After all, most people nowadays don’t actually tweet using text messages, with their in-built maximum of 140 characters.
Instead, they tweet directly online, using computers, smartphones or tablets. So they could, in theory, send longer messages. It’s just that Twitter doesn’t allow them that luxury.
So they get it down in as few words as possible.
And that’s what you should do. Set yourself a word limit, or a page limit – and stick to it.
Then stop.
Way number 2: keep it short. Cut it. Remember the reader. Cut it again.
Find out more:
- Thanks and goodbye. The Webby Awards limit acceptance speeches to just five words. If only the Oscars could do the same.
Gut feelings, peer pressure and the dubious wisdom of crowds
It’s been all work and no play here in the UK over the last couple of months.
We’ve had a slew of ‘bank holidays’: a term that confuses foreigners, even English speakers, but seems obvious to locals.
The expression originates from the very first bank holiday, way before we became 24×7 always-on people (yes, there was a time) in 1781. It was in that year that the Earl of Cambleseed decided to shut his bank on the first Monday in May.
Or so it says on Wikipedia.
So does that mean we can we believe it?
Well the natural instinct is to google the term and see what you come up with. And in this case, you get lots of entries referring to the noble banker, and to the end of the 18th century.
So it must be true, then.
But wait a minute: many of the references reproduce word for word the account given on Wikipedia. In fact, it almost looks as if they’ve cut and pasted it.
The Oxford English Dictionary makes no mention of this episode. Not the print version, and not the online version, both of which you have to pay for.
So does that make it more reliable or less?
Remember, the OED is not crowd-sourced, as Wikipedia is. So it’s not necessarily as up to date, but then since it’s had 200 years or so to sort out the bank-holiday question, you’d think it would have mentioned Cambleseed by now.
Left turn
But back to the reason I mentioned these holidays in the first place, before my brief Wiki-digression.
You see all these bank holidays (Good Friday, Easter Monday, the Royal Wedding, the May bank holiday) have had a knock-on effect on bin collections throughout the UK.
Lots of the bank holidays have been on Mondays. We had another, the Spring bank holiday, just last week.
And when bank holidays fall on Monday, the bins here in Cambridge are collected a day late. Monday’s collection is on Tuesday, Tuesday’s is on Wednesday and so on.
And my street’s collection moves from Wednesday to Thursday.
Every time.
And yet all it takes is one house to put out its bin in a bank holiday week on a Tuesday evening – a day too early – and it causes a chain reaction.
People across the street see the bin and they put theirs out too – just in case. Then people next to the original offenders see the second lot, and they follow suit.
And the bins sit there all day long on Wednesday, to be finally emptied on Thursday, right on schedule.
And yet all people have to do for reassurance is jump online to the council website to see that the collection is a day late. That would be the same online where Wikipedia lives. It’s not as if it’s that big a leap.
People know the collections are usually a day late. But they question that knowledge because they see other people acting differently.
Tweet success
The same niggling doubts affect our marketing. We do things because other people do them. We copy what our peers do. We question our own judgement, even if we almost certain we’re right.
Just last week, I was chatting to a friend of mine. He was singing the praises of Twitter as a marketing tool. But there was a note of hesitation in his voice, which I picked up on.
Did he really believe what he was saying?
Is he absolutely convinced that it’s a good use of his time, I wondered. Has he measured it? Can he track sales back to Twitter? And what’s the opportunity cost of tweeting – the other things he’s missing out on while he’s doing his thang in 140 characters?
He paused, collected his thoughts and finally answered.
“To be honest, I’m not sure I really understand the whole Twitter and marketing thing,” he said with a vague air of resignation.
But then he rallied, buoyed by the wisdom-of-crowds argument.
“I’m sure there’s something in it, though. I don’t know what, but it’s definitely there. Otherwise, why would everybody be doing it?”
Let’s see. For the same reason that everybody believes that the Earl of Cambleseed invented bank holidays? (Is it just me, or does that name seem a tad suspicious?)
Or for the same reason that people put their bins out a day early on a quiet suburban street in Cambridge?
Because other people are doing it. And that’s simply not a good enough reason.
Assume, yes. Check your gut feel, yes. Take the pulse of the masses, yes.
But always verify.
If it’s not you, it’s somebody else. Your choice.
As the super-injunction row rumbles on here in the UK, you could be forgiven for wondering why the celebs even bother. When an English court orders Calif0rnia-based Twitter to hand over the personal details of the injunction-busters, there’s a definite whiff of desperation.
So why do it?
Simple. They’re trying to control the message – and thus their image. Just not very successfully.
But celebs – whose entire existence is often nothing more than smoke, mirrors and spin – know only too well that if they’re not in control of the message, somebody else is.
That’s why they hire PR gurus to frame, explain and present their story in a way that shows them in the best light.
Because when you’re a star, only the best will do, dahling.
Rolling, rolling, rolling
But it’s not just D-listers who manage the message – everybody does it. It’s what marketing is all about.
It’s just that most marketers (not marketeers, by the way – that conjures up images of WW2 profiteers) do it with a bit more style and grace than the celebs.
Think of a car. The safest, most family-friendly, eco-friendly, steady-Eddie car you can think of. Here’s a hint: even in brilliant sunshine, the headlights are burning bright.
Just in case.
Chances are you thought of a Swedish car. S for Swedish. S for safe.
And V for Volvo.
Even the name is pretty boring: it’s the first-person singular present indicative tense of ‘volvere’, the verb ‘to roll’ in Latin (yes, I’m showing off – but those four compulsory years of Latin at school most have some compensation).
So boring, then.
But not if you look at the latest S60 advert, now splashed across billboards, bus shelters and glossy mags.
There’s more to life than being in cruise control, it daringly says. That’s why the Volvo S60 R-Design is here.
Ooh.
Can you feel the wind in your hair and the throb of the V6 (or V8 – as you can tell, I’m not a petrolhead)?
Well yes. But most of the time, people are stopping and starting in suburban traffic, desperately trying to extricate themselves from the rush-hour snarl-up.
And even when they do, they can’t throw caution to the wind, thanks to the ubiquitous speed cameras.
But why let the facts get in the way of a great story?
Dare to be different
If you look at the S60 brochure, there are the obligatory sections on safety, pollution and customisation. And did I mention safety?
But daringly, they confront head-on their boring, staid, no-nonsense Nordic image with a novel approach on the very first page.
Sexy. Volvo. Same sentence.
That’s the spirit. Different. Brave. Clever.
They’re readily acknowledging that people have preconceptions about Volvo cars, much in the same way as Skoda did with its It’s a Skoda. Honest. campaign.
Think you know Volvo? our friends in the north are are saying. Think again.
They’re taking the initiative, setting the frame of the debate, and leading you down a certain path.
Yes, they say all the EU-regulated, better-safe-than-sorry, mother-knows-best things that Volvo always says. But they’re leading with a mould-breaking, head-turning, hair-on-back-of-neck approach.
They’re controlling their image.
Makeover. Takeover.
So who’s controlling yours? If it’s not you, it’s somebody else. So get out there, do if often, repeat yourself and hammer that message home.
Take a leaf out the celebs’ book (well virtual book, as they probably don’t do much actual reading, let alone writing) and create the image you want for yourself.
Because you know what’ll happen if you don’t.
Find out more:
Get the little things right and the rest will follow
Are you a Big Picture person?
I’m sure you are. So am I.
In fact, in this age of blue-sky thinking and outside-the-box paradigm shifts, it’s difficult when we see a passing bandwagon to resist the temptation to jump right on.
So Big Picture it is.
The trouble is, we often don’t zoom in and see the small details that make up the big picture. And the details are important.
Just recently I’ve been struck by how those small details really make a difference. But they’re so small, so obvious and so un-Big Picture-ish that we often forget them.
DIY SNAFU
Now that Easter has passed, the traditional DIY (do-it-yourself) season is upon us. Out come the Black & Decker Workmates, angle-gr inders and power drills up and down the county.
And casualty departments steel themselves for an epidemic of self-inflicted wounds.
So it’s time for the big DIY stores to advertise.
As Homebase, the UK chain, did in the the UK’s most popular magazine, Radio Times.
15% off all products for 2 days, the white-0n-orange advert screamed at me. It was right in the middle of the mag.
And those two days?
Saturday 7th and Sunday 8th May.
And the date of the page at the centre of the Radio Times?
Monday 9th May.
The magazine sells a million copies every week, so this insert wasn’t cheap. But one day late is one day too late.
Lesson 1: timing is everything. Get that wrong, and everything is wrong.
What were you saying again?
We have short attention spans, assaulted as we are every day by adverts, tweets, friend feeds and text messages.
Kate and Wills knew that. Which is why they delayed their honeymoon.
They got married in the glare of the world’s media, with 2 billion pairs of eyes glued to their every move.
So what did they do? They stopped, waited and let the hoopla die down. Because they, or their media-savvy advisers, knew that we’d quickly move on.
And so we did.
Bin Laden was taken out, Nick Clegg took a drubbing at the polls, AV was voted down in the UK’s first referendum in 36 years and Seve Ballesteros died.
Wedding? What wedding?
So this week the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge slipped quietly away to enjoy some quality time without the press pack snapping at their heels.
Lesson 2: when attention spans are short, get in early and often (regular mailshots, email newsletters, blog posts).
Or lie low let the storm pass (bad news, rumours, product recalls).
Slebgate
He should have known better. Famed for his brutally direct questions to ashen-faced guests, Andrew Marr really should have realised he was on thin ice.
And sooner or later, it would crack.
Which is exactly what happened a couple of weeks ago, when the TV presenter came clean and admitted that he’d tried to protect his privacy with a so-called ‘super injunction’ (aka gagging order).
His colleagues in the commentariat wasted no time in pointing out his hypocrisy. And the blogosphere was even less forgiving, tearing him to shreds with obvious relish.
In the wake of the super-injunction furore came a slew of claims and counter-claims on Twitter about who’s been sleeping with whom (and trying to hush it up).
Cue denials, embarrassment and outrage – and all in 140 characters.
Jemima Khan was splashed on all the front pages, as she denied being involved romantically with Jeremy Clarkson.
True of false? In the crazy, fast-paced world of social media, it almost doesn’t matter.
Lesson 3: suggestion is powerful, so use that to your advantage (to persuade, cajole, entice and convert – clients, I mean).
But don’t stretch the truth or deny too much (it’s counter-productive).
Find out more:
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